


I'm Just Not Feeling Myself Lately

by manseekingmonster



Category: Pacific Rim (Movies)
Genre: Angst and Fluff, Angst with a Happy Ending, I swear everything turns out okay though, Light to Medium violence, M/M, Mild Sexual Content, Newt is a monsterfucker, Post-Uprising, also they're trans but its not that importnt, mentions of self harm
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-07
Updated: 2019-08-07
Packaged: 2020-08-11 11:40:31
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 16,706
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20152996
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/manseekingmonster/pseuds/manseekingmonster
Summary: Newt is being held in the Shatterdome while under the control of the precursors, and Hermann is the scientist in charge of finding a way to save him. The threat of losing Newt forces Hermann to confront his feelings for him, and the situation takes a serious toll on both of the scientists' emotional state.





	I'm Just Not Feeling Myself Lately

The straps on the chair dug into Newt’s wrists. A pained scream escaped his mouth in a voice that wasn’t his own. It still felt good to scream, even if it wasn’t his choice to do so. Maybe the world hadn’t ended, but in a way it had for Newt. He was trapped in this chair, in this dim, cold, empty room, his mind and body no longer his own.

Stupid _Stupid._ This should never have happened, it never should’ve come to this, but Newt was a selfish bastard who didn’t care about anything but having a good time. And when it all went to shit (very quickly at that), he was too weak to do anything about it but take the abuse. He became a pet to those monsters, he was their little attack dog and he let it happen. They demanded more and more of him, and gave him less and less in return, and Newt let it happen because he was weak and stupid. In a way, he deserved this. He deserved to be tied to a chair, caged like a wild animal while the precursors ate at his mind. This was his punishment.

“Are you ever going to shut up?”

The door slammed open, and bright light poured into Newt’s face. He squinted, but it turned into more of a glare as his eyes adjusted to the light. Stacker’s son stood in the doorway-Jeff? Josh? Newt couldn’t remember his name-with what looked like a medical bag in his hand.

“I didn’t know you were a doctor,” Newt hissed, staring at the bag in his hand. He hadn’t meant to come off so harsh. This was becoming a more frequent problem. Newt had been a little bitch in the past, but now everything he said came off as an insult. He felt like a monster, which he figured made sense given the situation.

“I don’t need to be a doctor to do this,” Stacker’s son quipped. He pulled a massive syringe out of the medical bag.

“You come near me with that thing, I’ll flay you alive,” Newt growled. The threat sickened him. He would never say that to someone. Never. He tried to get an apology in, but his throat closed up as he tried to speak.

“I’d like to see you try, all tied up like that.” Stacker’s son set the syringe down on a counter against the wall and pulled a pair of scissors out of the bag. He took a handful of Newt’s sleeve and sliced at it, tearing a sizable hole in Newt’s jacket.

“You asshole!” Newt screeched. “Do you know how much that cost, you dimwitted little fuck?”

“If you care so much about your jacket, you shouldn’t have tried to kill us all.”

“That… that doesn’t even make any sense.”

Newt flinched as he felt the sudden chill of a wet alcohol pad against his bare arm. He tried to squirm away from it, but the bindings of the chair held firm. The needle was far worse, though-it was thicker than any needle Newt had seen before, and longer too, he could’ve sworn it hit bone as it burrowed into the flesh of his arm. He screamed again, this time of his own free will because _fuck_, that hurt. Stacker’s son said something else, but Newt couldn’t hear it. His head swam, his hands felt numb, his eyelids fell. A curse formed in his mouth, but all that came out was a moan. Truthfully, Newt was glad to be put out of his misery. The mental strain of fighting with the precursors was just so much, if it was finally over, then he couldn’t be anything but grateful.

But it wasn’t over. Of course it wasn’t over.

Newt awoke on a hard mattress against a white wall. As he moved to sit up, he realised his hands had been bound together. These bindings were more painful than the ones on the chair: two heavy metal bands around his wrists, attached with a short but thick chain. The left band had an additional chain attached to it connecting the cuffs to the wall above the bed. Out of curiosity, Newt stood up and took a few steps, testing his range. It wasn’t much. He could reach a primitive-looking toilet in the corner next to the bed, but he was a few steps away from the iron gate keeping him in the room, as well as a wooden chair in the far corner of the room. The concrete floor was cold against his bare feet, giving Newt quite a shock at the realisation that his shoes had been removed. Upon looking down to see if his shoes were anywhere in the room, he noticed that those weren’t the only things which had been taken from him. To Newt’s horror, he’d been completely stripped apart from his underwear.

“Is this some kind of sick joke?” he bellowed at no one in particular. All he could see out the iron gate was another concrete wall. He wasn’t even sure if he was still in the Shatterdome. Angered at the lack of response, Newt whipped his arms back and forth, slamming the chains against the wall. He shouted at the top of his lungs. The noise was a lot for Newt to handle, but the precursors didn’t care. Newt strained his mind, desperately trying to stop moving or screaming or something, but he couldn’t. He couldn’t control his body, and he was terrified. If he could, he would cry, but that was up to the precursors, and the precursors never let him cry.

Newt fell to the bed as a fist slammed into the iron bars of his prison. He found he could move his head to look out into the hall, and a tall, bulky man stared back at him. The man had the build of a Jaeger pilot, but he wore the uniform of a security guard.

“Who the hell are you?” Newt grumbled.

“I’m not giving you my name,” the man replied.

“Why the hell not?”

“‘Cause I don’t want any of your little friends after me.”

“My little friends can’t exactly come after you when I’m all tied up like this, can they?”

“We don’t know that.”

“Can I get my clothes back, at least?”

“It’ll be easier to hose you down when you’re wearing as little as possible. And it’s less to take off every time you need to take a piss.”

“What? You’re gonna… fuck no, man! I’d rather piss my pants.”

“Relax, little man. We’ve got someone else to take care of that for you. My job is just to make sure you don’t kill ‘em.”

“Oh, I’ll kill them. And I’ll kill you too. I’ll kill all of you, but first I’ll lock you up in a little cage like this and make you all rot in your own filth.” Newt hated the words coming out of his mouth, but he was powerless to stop them. “And once you’re all dirty and hopeless from being trapped in here, I’ll dissect you all like lab rats. I’ll do it just like I did it at university-slow and careful and precise, so I can lay out every one of your bones and organs in a pretty little pattern. It’ll be beautiful.”

“You talk big game for such a little man,” the guard laughed.

“I need to piss now,” Newt grumbled.

He heard the buzz of a walkie talkie, followed by the loud clatter of the iron door opening. A slender girl in a cadet uniform stepped into his cage.

“Sending the interns to deal with me, huh?” Newt grumbled. The fact that they’d sent a woman also pissed him off somewhat. He’d rather a guy see his junk, even though he didn’t have a dick, but he figured it must’ve been some kind of policy.

The cadet glared at him. She said nothing, only grabbing his waistband dutifully and yanking it down.

Newt lunged at her, sinking his teeth into her neck. The part of him that was still him was much more concerned with putting his pants back on than attacking some random cadet, but the precursors had other plans. The cadet cursed and grabbed Newt by his hair, attempting to drag him away. By the time Newt had disconnected from the poor woman’s neck, he could taste blood in his mouth, and the cadet had a set of deep bite marks on her neck.

“Can I get backup in here?” she shouted, clutching a hand to her neck. The security guard stepped into Newt’s cell, aiming a gun at Newt. Newt recognized it as a tranquilizer gun, but he shrunk away regardless. He quickly did his business before having his pants pulled back up. The cadet rushed out of his cell, leaving Newt and the security guard alone.

“You’re a little shit, you know that?” the security guard snapped.

“Should’ve sent a beefcake like yourself,” Newt growled. “I’d have given him a hickey instead of a bite.”

“The next time you assault an employee _in any way_, I’m knocking you out again. And not in the humane way like Pentecost did. I’m gonna shoot you full of tranquilisers, alright?” The guard waved his tranq gun threateningly.

“Go ahead, asshole. I’ll just get back up. And I’ll bite harder.”

“What do you want, you little twat? What is it your species likes? Human hearts on a platter?”

“That’s more of an acquired taste,” Newt laughed. “I, for one, prefer… stuck-up scientists who dress like old men.”

“Are you talking about Doctor Gottlieb?”

“His name’s Hermann. He’s the real twat, if you ask me.”

“From what I heard, you tried to kill him.”

“Only because he was in my way. I promise I won’t do it again.”

“You aren’t just looking for a chance to sink your teeth into him?”

“I will if he wants.”

“The hell do you mean, ‘if he wants?’”

“You know. I think we’ll start with some kissing and light foreplay, maybe move onto some good old-fashioned humping if we’re in the mood. It’s hard to do hand stuff with my hands cuffed like this, so it’ll probably end with-”

“Shut up, will ya? I don’t wanna hear about that. Especially coming from you.”

“Your loss. Thought you were the kind of guy who’s into that kind of thing.”

“You’re calling me gay?”

“Nah, I just feel like you’d be into seeing two trans guys get it on. But I misjudged you, and I apologize for that.”

“You just can’t stand being the weirdest motherfucker here, can you?”

“I’ve got voices in my head, asshole. Literally. Me being queer is not what makes me a weird motherfucker.”

“Oh, don’t I know it.”

“So… will you get Hermann in for me?” Newt whined. It was the first genuine thing he was able to say all day. There was nothing sexual about the desperation in his voice, and he was angry at the precursors for using his innermost desires against him like that. Like, come on, how low can you get? Newt had been silently pining over Hermann before they’d even seen each other’s faces, and now this random security guard knew all about his fantasies. Great.

“I’ll ask. But I doubt you’d get approved.”

“I mean, if he’s able to be around me, maybe he can figure out how to help me.”

“You know what? That’s some decent logic, little man.”

“Yeah, well, bring a camera on your next shift. Just in case” Newt’s voice had snapped back into the ugly growl of the precursors. Any mention of getting them out of his head immediately got Newt pushed deep down into his own mind, and had the precursors in near-complete control for the next few hours at least.

Newt felt his body collapse onto the uncomfortable mattress. He had no sheets on his bed, and he couldn’t have pulled them over himself if he did, so all he had was the cold mattress. It was awful, but he knew he deserved it.

His dreams weren’t much better. Now that the precursors were in his head, he couldn’t catch a break from them, even in sleep. Sharing a headspace with such horrible creatures was quite the unique experience. He didn’t blame Hermann for having nightmares after experiencing it just once. Practically every waking and sleeping moment of Newt’s life was a nightmare with those things in his head. Any of the rush he got from drifting with the kaiju initially was gone. There was no more enjoyment or euphoria in the dark headspace the precursors inhabited, it was all claws and teeth in his flesh and cruel whispers in his ears.

_You failure. You little bitch. Look what you did to us. You’re caged like a dog, and you brought us with you. Don’t you know you’re _our_ pet, not theirs?_

_Why are you so ashamed to admit how you feel about your little friend Hermann, huh? We all know what you’d do to him if you got the chance. We just want to give you a little push is all. Help you open up a little._

_If only you’d succeeded with our little plan. How we’d have loved to see both of you suffocate in our beautiful poisoned atmosphere. How he’d have clung to you in his final moments, sobbing and moaning and asking you why before choking out his final breath. How you’d cry, how you’d sob like a little baby over his corpse as you succumb to your own handiwork._

Newt cried. He felt tears soaking his face when he woke up the next morning. A new guard stood outside the gate, staring in at him.

“You’re awake,” the new guard observed. He looked pretty similar to the other guard, which was to be expected.

“You’re a goddamn genius, aren’t you?” Newt said sarcastically.

“Would you like me to send Doctor Gottlieb in now?” the guard asked, ignoring Newt’s taunts. This was a relief to Newt, but it angered the precursors.

“Yeah,” Newt replied. “He better have food with him too, or I might end up eating him.”

“I’ll let him know,” the guard sighed.

Newt waited a few minutes before he heard the unmistakable sound of a cane tapping against concrete. He practically glowed with excitement. The last time he saw Hermann, he’d nearly choked him out. All he wanted was to set things right.

The guard let Hermann into Newt’s cell, and Hermann sat down in the chair in the unreachable corner of the room. He laid his cane across his lap and stared Newt down.

“I heard you wanted to see me,” Hermann said calmly.

“Where’s my goddamn breakfast?” Newt snapped. He wanted to kick himself for that response. This was not going to help him reconcile with Hermann.

“It’s still being prepared. They’ll send it down when it’s ready.”

Newt sighed. He laid down on his side, facing Hermann and striking a seductive pose.

“Like what you see, Hermann?” Newt hissed. “They took my clothes away. Did you give that order?”

“Newton, please…” Hermann grumbled. He couldn’t use his typical excuse that they were in a workplace environment, but he was still put off by Newt’s advances. It wasn’t that he didn’t find Newt attractive, or even that he didn’t want Newt to flirt with him. Newt was just a terrible flirt, and the fact that the thing flirting with him now might not have been Newt just made it worse.

“Ten years, Hermann. We were apart for ten years. Imagine that,” Newt mused. “Do you know how much action I got during those ten years? It was fucking _awesome_. I doubt you got any, you miserable prick. You’re probably too proper to even touch yourself to that photo of me you keep on your desk.”

Hermann glared at Newt. All Newt wanted to say was _don’t listen, this isn’t me, I swear,_ but he couldn’t. He was powerless.

“I’ve felt things you couldn’t even dream of, Hermann. It was amazing.”

“Newton, I have no interest in your sex life. Is this really all you wanted to talk to me about?”

“You’re jealous, aren’t you. You just want to know what it feels like to have me.”

“You twat. I can’t believe you. I really thought you wanted to apologise or something.”

“I’ve got a better idea,” Newt smirked. “You let me out, and then I let you fuck me. Whatever you want. I’ve been told I’m an excellent submissive. Maybe you could hit me with that cane of yours.”

“My cane is not a toy, Newton. And I am not taking those handcuffs off until we figure out a way to fix you.”

“I don’t need fixing.”

“Newton…” Hermann sighed, burying his face in his hands. This wasn’t his Newton. Of course it wasn’t. Newt was a twat, of course, but he’d never been so rude and vulgar before. Newt was gone, and if he wasn’t gone, he was buried deep within a subconscience ruled by the precursors.

“Come on, Hermann. I know you want to.”

“Shut up!” Hermann shouted. “I don’t know what you are, you monster, but you are not Newton! I don’t even know if he’s still in there, but you’re not him! You’re not! And I’m not going to listen to you!”

Newt laughed wickedly.

“He’s still in here,” he growled in a voice that barely resembled his own. “We’ve buried him deep, deep down, but he’s still in here. It’s like a locked-in syndrome of sorts for him. He can see you, he can hear you, he can feel everything. But he can’t move or speak unless we do it for him.”

“Can you… let him out for me?” Hermann asked.

“Only if we want to.”

“Please?”

“Get us our breakfast first. Then we can talk.”

Hermann buried his face in his hands again, letting out a few sobs. He missed Newt so much, even more than he had during the ten years they worked apart. Because now Newt was right here, right in front of him, and yet it wasn’t him.

“So none of this is him? It’s all you?”

“We let some of him through. Sometimes. The desperately wanting to fuck you is all him. We have no interest in such relations with your species.”

“How do I know you aren’t lying?”

“What reason do you have to doubt us? He’s clearly in love with you, Hermann. He’d never say all those things to you, but he’s thinking them.”

“Is he thinking that right now?”

“No. All he’s thinking about right now is how sorry he is. He’s sorry for trying to destroy the world, but mostly he’s sorry for choking you yesterday.”

“Well… let him know that I forgive him.” Hermann was shocked. Newt cared more about him than the entire rest of the world. It was insane.

“He knows.”

Hermann had to hold back sobs. He missed Newt so much.

The iron bar door scraped against the floor again, and a short guy in a cadet uniform walked in with a plate of scrambled eggs. He took one look at Newt before gingerly handing the plate to Hermann and rushing back out of the cell. Hermann set the plate down on the floor next to the chair and crawled down onto the ground, sitting cross-legged in front of the bed and holding the plate of food in his hands.

“Get down here, you rascal,” Hermann grumbled.

“Aren’t you gonna get these cuffs off me first?”

“What? No. I’m going to feed you.”

“You’ve gotta be kidding me. I can’t pull my own pants down to take a piss, I can’t feed myself, I can’t even move far enough to sit in that chair. They’re treating me worse than an animal.”

“Are you going to keep on running your gob like that, or are you going to get down here and eat?”

Newt really was hungry, so he swallowed his pride and sat down on the floor across from Hermann. Hermann thrust a spoonful of eggs towards him, and Newt rolled his eyes as he ate them.

“Did your boss order you to spoon-feed me like this, or is this a new fetish you’re trying out?” Newt grumbled.

“They wouldn’t have needed to tie your hands up if you hadn’t tried to choke me.”

“You can take them off. I promise I won’t choke you this time.”

“I don’t even have a key. And if I did, I would not let you out.”

“Bastard.”

“Stop talking. I can’t feed you while you’re talking.”

Newt shut up, crossing his arms and glaring at Hermann as he finished the plate of scrambled eggs.

“Can I speak to Newt now?” Hermann asked.

Newt stared at him blankly for a few seconds. Then he fell against the bed and started sobbing.

Hermann knew he was supposed to be staying away from Newt whenever possible to avoid being bitten or knocked over by him, but he couldn’t resist running a hand through Newt’s hair in an attempt to calm him.

“I’m sorry, Hermann,” Newt cried. “I’m sorry I said those things to you. They’re in my head, it’s not me, I’m so sorry.”

“Newton, it’s okay,” Hermann whispered. “Talk to me, sweetheart.”

Newt’s heart jumped at being called ‘sweetheart’. Hermann had never called him that before.

“I’m sorry,” Newt repeated. “They… they weren’t lying, I really do think those things about you sometimes. I’m sorry you had to hear them like that, I was going to tell you someday. I know your cane isn’t a toy, I know you don’t like me like that, I just… I love you, Hermann. I’m sorry.”

“You don’t have to apologise,” Hermann assured him. “I know you’d never say those things to me.”

“They lied about me getting action though. It wasn’t really awesome.”

“Newt…” Hermann feared another rant about Newt’s sex life, but he felt too bad about Newt’s situation to deny him that outlet.

“It was horrible. It started out good though. When I drifted with that thing for the first time, it promised me things. It told me it could do things for me, make me feel things I’d never feel otherwise. So after we saved the world and all, I took it home and tried again. And it was amazing. Do you know what it’s like to have a kaiju tongue… nevermind. Point is, I kept it going. And every time, it got worse. Teeth and claws, ripping at my skin, tearing me apart to the point I could still feel it even after the neural link ended. And eventually I could feel them, too. The precursors. They stuck around in my head along with the pain. They tell me things, horrible things, about how they’re going to kill everyone and make me watch. And they hurt me when I try to resist them. I don’t know how exactly they’re doing it, I think they might be manipulating my parietal lobe in some way, like they’re creating this phantom pain. But it might be deeper than that, I don’t know.”

“That’s an interesting theory,” Hermann replied, nodding. He tried to act professional, he and Newt were colleagues at best after all. But all he really wanted to do was hold Newt and kiss him until his lips were blue.

“It hurts so much, Hermann. Like it’s this shooting pain through my whole body, radiating outwards from my chest. Every time I try to get a word in, or move against their will, or do anything they don’t like.”

“Are they hurting you now?”

“A little bit.” The strain in Newt’s voice and the way his eyes occasionally squinted shut in pain begged to differ, but Hermann knew there was nothing he could do about it. Asking the precursors to stop would probably only cause Newt more pain, and at that point that was the only solution Hermann had.

“Newton, before they take over again… is there anything I can do?”

“Can you kiss me?” Newt mumbled. “A kiss would be nice.”

Hermann half suspected this was another trick by the precursors and the moment he approached Newt he’d be chewed on like the cadet from the previous day. Newt had never asked for a kiss before. But hey, the circumstances were different. If Newt needed a kiss, than Hermann was more than happy to give it to him.

He pressed his face to Newt’s, placing his hands on his shoulders and pecking at his lips teasingly. Newt eagerly reciprocated, tonguing at Hermann’s lips and letting out a soft whine. Hermann finally pulled away when he felt Newt starting to bite at his lips.

“Sorry,” Newt sighed. “I should’ve known you wouldn’t like that, huh.”

“That still you in there, Newt?”

“Yeah, it’s me. It was me biting you too. I’m sorry.”

“What is wrong with you, you little rascal,” Hermann asked rhetorically, laughing to himself. Newt laughed too. Then his face went bright red, and he turned his gaze away from Hermann.

“Uh. This is kind of awkward, but… I gotta take a piss.”

“Oh. Er… alright. I’ll give you some privacy then.”

“Well… fuck, this is gonna sound bad, but like, I can’t really pull my pants down like this, can I?” Newt shook his cuffed hands for emphasis. Hermann’s face turned a similar shade of red to Newt’s.

“I suppose that’s quite the conundrum, isn’t it,” Hermann muttered.

“I promise I won’t bite you,” Newt said, grinning. He stood up, and Hermann followed suit.

“No funny business, alright?” Hermann said sharply, staring Newt in the eyes.

“No promises.”

Hermann sighed, taking the waistband of Newt’s boxer shorts in his hand.

“This isn’t weird at all,” Hermann muttered half to himself. “Nothing weird going on here. Just a perfectly normal job, all in a day’s work for Doctor Gottlieb.”

“You saying it’s not weird is making it weirder,” Newt whispered. It wasn’t nearly this weird when it was some random cadet, why did the fact that it was Hermann make it so much weirder?

Hermann slowly pulled Newt’s underwear down. Newt’s breath hitched as Hermann’s hand glided briefly down his thigh. Hermann averted his eyes the moment Newt was fully unclothed-always the gentleman, even under such circumstances. He stared out the iron gate of the cell, desperately trying to stop blushing, to think about normal things. He’d closed his eyes as much as he could get away with while pulling Newt’s shorts down; he hadn’t even seen anything he wasn’t supposed to see. But that act wasn’t the only thing making things awkward-far from it, in fact. The feelings Hermann had at seeing Newt half-naked and with his hands bound like that were far from workplace-appropriate. A part of him couldn’t help but wonder if the precursors were telling the truth, if Newt really did feel that way about him.

“Hermann? I could use a little help here, man.”

Hermann turned around, keeping his gaze as high up as possible. He soon realised that this wasn’t a practical solution when it dawned on him that Newt’s boxers were currently around his ankles, and he’d have to bend down at some point in order to pull them up. Carefully, Hermann dropped onto one knee, keeping his eyes locked with Newt’s as he desperately tried to find Newt’s underwear without looking down at what he was doing. Eventually frustration got the better of him and he snuck a split-second glance to get his bearings.

Or at least, that was what he meant to do. What he actually did was grab the waistband of Newt’s underwear and then hold completely still and stare into the eyes of the kaiju on Newt’s chest. He always hated that thing-Newt had had a penchant for unbuttoning his shirt and showing off his chest ever since he got top surgery (and soon afterward got his chest piece finished), and every time he did so Hermann was forced to stare into the eyes of that kaiju. At the time he had considered it stupid, but now it just seemed cruel. Those things had taken Newt away from him, and now here was one right here, right on Newt’s chest, staring down at Hermann as if to taunt him. Hermann tried to focus on being angry at that kaiju and not on Newt’s perfect, beautiful body. He had half a mind to thank whoever was in charge of keeping Newt captive for taking all his clothes off like this-it was certainly humiliating for Newt, but god, if it wasn’t hot as hell.

“Can you stop ogling me and pull my pants up already?” Newt asked. “You’re totally making this weird.”

“It was already weird, you dimwit,” Hermann grumbled. “I’ve never seen you like this. It’s… overwhelming.”

“Just hurry up and get it over with, okay?”

Hermann nodded, swiftly pulling up Newt’s boxer shorts. Newt had to hold back a whine once again as Hermann’s hands brushed his thighs. He collapsed to his knees so he could meet Hermann’s gaze.

“Please help me,” Newt whispered, tears welling up in his eyes. “I love you, Hermann. I don’t wanna live like this anymore.”

“Newt, I promise you, I’m doing everything I can.” Hermann planted a soft kiss on Newt’s forehead. He set his hands on Newt’s shoulders again, desperately wanting to just pull him in close, hold him tight and tell him everything was going to be okay.

Then he felt a bite on his neck.

He dug his fingernails into Newt’s shoulders in shock, but didn’t immediately move to escape. The bite didn’t actually hurt that much, and he could feel Newt’s lips against his skin as well as his teeth, and it didn’t feel terrible.

_Shit. That’s a hickey. He’s trying to give me a hickey._

“Hey, hey, quit it!” Hermann exclaimed, stumbling backwards out of Newt’s reach. He grabbed his cane and carefully stood up, staring Newt down angrily. Newt smirked wickedly back at him.

“That’s gonna leave a mark, science bitch,” Newt sneered.

“Please don’t call me that,” Hermann sighed. Newt was gone. The precursors were back, and there was no telling when he would next be able to talk to Newt for real.

Newt sat back down on the bed, and Hermann sat down in the chair across from him.

“Hermann, Hermann, Hermann,” Newt smirked, shaking his head slyly. “If only you could know what he was feeling when your hands touched his thighs. When you stared up at him like that.”

“I think I can figure it out,” Hermann mumbled, glaring at Newt. Of course he knew. He was feeling the same thing. But he’d never admit it. Neither of them would ever have had to acknowledge those feelings if it weren’t for the precursors.

“Oh, Hermann. He was-”

“Shut your mouth!” Hermann snapped. “Shut your goddamn mouth, you monster! I’m not going to listen to you anymore! I came here to talk to Newt. Is that clear? If you’re not going to let him talk to me, I’m not going to listen.”

“Then go,” Newt hissed.

“I think I will,” Hermann said confidently, standing up and slamming his cane into the floor.

“Just know this,” Newt murmured, grinning up at Hermann. “He loves you. He loves seeing you. It’s the only thing that gives him any hope.”

“I love him too. But I simply cannot stand you.”

“Newt can’t stand us either. While he was talking to you just before, he was in constant pain. We made sure of that. But he held out so long before forfeiting control back to us. All so he could talk to you, Hermann. That’s how much he loves you.”

Hermann felt awful. If he’d known the precursors were hurting Newt like that the whole time, he never would have tried to talk to him.

At least, that’s what he told himself. But he wanted to talk to Newt so bad, maybe he would’ve let his morality slip just a little so he could talk to him.

“Why would you hurt him like that?” Hermann asked, not really expecting a straight answer.

“Because he’s _horrible!_” Newt hissed gleefully, his voice a shredded facsimile of what it normally was. “He’s a little bitch who was no help to us, but he’s the only one on this planet stupid enough to let us in.”

“And you need to keep him weak so he can’t fight back.”

“He couldn’t ever fight back. He’s not strong enough. None of you are strong enough.”

“I-I need to go,” Hermann said shakily, glancing at a watch he wasn’t wearing. “I’ve got an important business meeting soon.”

“Liar,” Newt growled. “You’re a liar and you’re a coward and you will _never_ have Newt back. He’s ours now. And we’re doing whatever we want to him.”

“I’m leaving!” Hermann called nonchalantly as he shoved the iron gate open and subsequently closed it behind him. He trudged down the concrete hall, up the rickety old elevator, and into his dorm room. Once inside, he fell to the bed and began sobbing.

Adorning the walls and shelves of Hermann’s room were a few posters and trinkets Newt had left in his room after moving out years ago. His least favourite of these-a pinup-style poster of Godzilla in lace underwear with a very obvious bulge-stared at him from the far wall of his room. Hermann had always found it gaudy and disgusting, but now he took odd comfort in it. This was Newt. This was who Newt really was: behind every ounce of precursor control was a guy who regularly jerked off to a painting of Godzilla in lace panties.

And Hermann desperately wanted this guy back.

Hermann abandoned his bed and instead sat down at the desk in his room, flipping through the drawers, not really looking for anything in particular. Perhaps some stationary, some way to pour out all his feelings. Or maybe some other piece of Newt residing in the drawer, one of the monster figurines Hermann couldn’t find space for on his bookshelf.

What he did find was a scalpel. It was sealed in a ziplock bag adorned with a few hearts drawn on in Sharpie. This was one of Hermann’s stranger possessions by which he remembered Newt. It was one of the scalpels Newt kept in his lab, and when Newt left K-Science, this particular scalpel had been removed from its packaging but never used. Hermann has been sure to sanitize and sterilise it anyway just to be safe (he didn’t want a trace of any kind of lab substances getting into his possessions), and he stored it in a plastic bag to keep it clean. The reason for keeping it so pristine was, well…

Hermann twirled the blade in his fingers as he’d always seen Newt do prior to performing dissections. He’d always comment on how dangerous it was, and then spend the next several minutes twirling a pen in his hand in an attempt to replicate Newt’s technique. Then, with little consideration at all, Hermann steadied the blade in his hand and slid it across his arm.

It was the kind of intimate bonding ritual he felt no one would understand but him, though he derived immense comfort from it. Even though the scalpel was carefully sterilised, Hermann couldn’t help but feel that every time it sunk into his skin, a little piece of Newt was entering him. He shed a few tears during this ritual, not from the pain (he was used to it by now) but because he missed Newt so very much.

Once his forearms were significantly maimed, Hermann set the scalpel back in the ziplock bag and retreated to the bathroom to wash up. He carefully cleaned his wounds, then wrapped them tightly with bandages. The bandages were mostly to prevent blood from getting on his sleeves (bloodstains were so hard to wash out, especially from clothes that were dry-clean only) or on his bedsheets and nightclothes while he slept. Hermann had taken to wearing one of Newt’s old shirts while he slept (a garish red shirt with a brightly-colored print of Mothra on the front), and if he ended up getting blood on that he would’ve been absolutely crushed. The fabric of the shirt was itchy, but just the fact that it was Newt’s shirt made it comfortable enough.

Clad in the horrible Mothra shirt and a pair of boxers, his bandaged arms exposed to whoever or whatever might have been looking on, Hermann crawled into bed. He set his glasses on the nightstand before staring up at the ceiling and beginning another session of crying. Hermann laid his arms over his chest, gripping the fabric of the shirt in his fists. It was another piece of Newt, the Newt who once was, the Newt who was slowly deteriorating in that cell. Eventually he fell into a restless sleep, shirt still clutched in his hands and tears still flowing from his eyes.

Hermann awoke in more pain than usual. The cuts on his arms itched and stung like crazy, and his hip ached more than usual on account of all the tossing and turning from that night’s rest. He begrudgingly rolled out of bed, pulled on the biggest jacket he had (he needed the long sleeves to cover the bandages on his arms), and trudged down the halls of the Shatterdome to his office.

A woman in a lab coat was already there waiting for him.

“Doctor Gottlieb,” she said in a monotone voice. “Have you found anything useful in your conversations with Doctor Geiszler?”

“Uh.” Hermann didn’t know what to say. Of course his current project was to help Newt, but he hadn’t thought of the visit as part of that. If he had, he would’ve brought a clipboard, taken notes, done a write-up. Instead, all he’d done was try and spend time with his friend. Stupid.

“Did you find _anything at all?_” the woman asked, narrowing her eyes.”

“Well… it seems the precursors are able to manipulate parts of his brain in order to cause him pain. That could indicate a physical presence in his head rather than just a presence in his thoughts and memories. If we could get him in for an MRI, we’d be able to see if there’s anything in there. A growth or tumor of some sort.”

“Good thinking. Do you think we could keep him sedated long enough to complete a scan?”

“The sedative worked when we were moving him to the cell. I’m assuming it would work for this.”

“I can get the radiology lab prepared for an MRI if you can go down there and sedate him.”

“I… I don’t know about that. Can’t we get a doctor to go down there and sedate him or something?”

“You’re a doctor yourself, aren’t you?”

“Not that kind of doctor.”

“Whatever. You’re the only person he doesn’t attack on sight, so just suck it up and take the kit down there, will you?” The woman reached into a cabinet and pulled out a medical bag, which Hermann assumed contained the sedative. Hermann took it gingerly, nodding and stepping out of the office.

He had seen the sedative kit back when they had first moved Newt into his cell. The needle was huge, and Hermann cringed just looking at it. It made him a bit sick to think about plunging the thing into Newt: he’d never done anything to hurt him, and the idea of causing him pain was simply unpleasant.

When Hermann arrived at Newt’s cell, he was surprised to find Newt curled up on the bed, staring out the gate. His eyes were vacant, and his face had a few bruises on it. Hermann felt even more guilty about hurting Newt than he had before, considering how much pain he appeared to already be in.

He slipped into the cage quietly and carefully, sitting down in the chair with the medical bag in his lap. Wanting to postpone the injection for as long as possible, he opted to attempt conversation with Newt.

“Newton…” he said softly, guilt and shame still coursing through his mind. “What’s happened to your face? Are you quite alright?”

“I’ve been a bad boy, Hermann,” Newt replied vacantly. “I decided to punish myself. Since you weren’t here to do it for me.”

Hermann was overcome by both disgust at the sexual undertones of the comment and horror at the idea that Newt had inflicted these bruises upon himself.

“You… hurt yourself?” he asked cautiously.

“You’d be surprised how easily the human body bruises when you smash it repeatedly against concrete.”

“The precursors did this to you, didn’t they.”

“No,” Newt laughed. “If they wanted to hurt me, they could’ve just fucked with my brain, remember? I did this to myself. And it felt fucking good, too. Nice to be able to hurt someone of my own accord for a change.”

“Newton… you can’t do that. We’re going to get you fixed up, okay? And then you won’t have to hurt anyone anymore.”

“You know what, Hermann? You’re a goddamn hypocrite, you know that?”

“I’m sorry?”

“You’re wearing your cutter jacket. So either you got dressed in the dark or you did something last night.”

“I’ve got no idea what you’re talking about.”

“Hermann… please. Don’t lie to me. I know. I saw it when I drifted with you. You wear that jacket after you’ve hurt yourself because you think the sleeves are long enough to hide the cuts. And they are, I’ve only seen the cuts during that drift, but I always knew when you wore that jacket that something had happened.”

“Newt, I’m sorry.” It was all Hermann could think to say. This was his dirty little secret, something he did for himself alone, just to make himself feel a little better. He never wanted anyone else to know, especially not Newt.

“Was it me? Did seeing me like this make you… do that?”

He was right. Hermann didn’t want to admit it, he didn’t want to make Newt feel worse, but he was right.

“I just missed you, Newton. I missed you so much. You used to be so… stupid. So carefree and ridiculous, and it got on my nerves at the time, but now I miss it. I miss it so much.”

“You don’t have to do that for me.”

“I… I have one of your scalpels. That’s what I use. It makes me feel closer to you.”

“Hermann…” Newt felt tears coming to his eyes. “Hermann, I’m right here.”

“It’s not the same. Those things, they’re taking you away from me. It feels wrong.”

“And cutting feels better?”

“Better than this.”

“Fuck, Hermann. Just… god fucking dammit. I’m sorry this happened. It’s my fault.”

“Don’t say that. You shouldn’t blame yourself. And… I’m sorry you had to see… whatever you saw in the drift. It must’ve looked awful.”

“It wasn’t the worst thing I’ve ever seen. Your scalpel technique is excellent.”

“Thanks.” Hermann blushed. He still felt awful, but it was nice to hear a genuine compliment from Newt.

“So what’s in the bag?” Newt remarked, narrowing his eyes at the med kit on Hermann’s lap.

“Look… we’re going to give you an MRI to see if the precursors have created some physical presence in your brain. A growth, a tumor, something we could operate on. So I’m going to sedate you for the procedure.”

“You don’t need to be sedated for an MRI.”

“Usually that would be the case, but we can’t trust the precursors to let you hold still for long enough to get you into the lab, much less perform the procedure.”

“That’s another one of those massive syringes, isn’t it.”

“I’m sorry, Newton. I suppose these are the only ones that have worked on you.”

“Can you at least do two smaller doses or something? That thing is huge. I swear I felt it hit my bone last time.”

“I’ll try and have it arranged for next time. But this is our only option for now.” Hermann pulled out the syringe and the vial of liquid, barely able to look at the thing as he drew up a dose.

He approached Newt with the thing, but Newt started hissing and shrinking away before he’d even touched him with the alcohol pad.

“It’ll probably hurt more if you struggle,” Hermann told him bluntly.

“No, no, it’s just… I’m kinda bruised up,” Newt muttered.

“Oh, I’m sorry,” Hermann said sweetly. “Is there a spot where you’d be more comfortable with me doing this, or are you covered?” He couldn’t tell where exactly Newt’s bruises were as they blended right in with his tattoos, but Hermann had no doubt that they were all over.

“Can’t you put it in my thigh? I’m okay down there.”

Hermann’s heart leapt, remembering the debacle that had arose the previous day when he’d accidentally touched Newt’s thighs. He was sure this had to be a plot from Newt to feel that touch again, but oddly enough, he didn’t really mind. Really, he was more concerned about being able to find a good enough vein on Newt’s heavily tattooed thighs.

“It’ll be easier for me if it goes in your arm. I might have to take it out and reinsert it if I hit your thigh in the wrong place, and I’m sure neither of us want that.”

“I guess,” Newt sighed.

“Alright,” Hermann said, pressing the alcohol pad to Newt’s arm. Newt winced at the sudden chill and at the pressure on his bruised flesh.

“You okay?” Hermann asked.

“Yeah. Just get it over with.”

Newt let out a scream as the needle went in, more slowly than it probably should have. He wondered for a moment if the medical team knew that Hermann wasn’t actually that kind of doctor, but he soon abandoned that thought in favor of focusing on the terrible pain. It practically ate him alive, it hurt so much. For a second, he even regretted bruising himself like that. But soon the drowsiness from the sedative started to kick in, and his eyelids started to droop, and the pain began to fade.

Then he felt a feathery touch against his thigh. Or maybe it was an aggressive touch, and he was just going numb from the sedative. He forced his eyes open, looking down at Hermann. His breath hitched when he saw Hermann kneeling at his feet, resting his hands on his thighs and gently running his fingers across his bare skin.

“Hermann…” Newt slurred, the sedative kicking in far too fast.

“It’s gonna be okay, Newton,” Hermann whispered, staring up into Newt’s eyes. “We’re gonna make you better, we’re gonna get those things out of your head and then it’ll be okay, alright sweetheart?”

Newt meant to say something, but all that came out was a pained moan. He reached out a hand, trying to touch Hermann, hold his hand or run his fingers through his hair or _something_, but the sedative took him over and he was out cold.

Hermann planted a single kiss on the back of Newt’s outstretched hand before paging the medical team to come pick him up. His knuckles were purple, apparently from Newt having bashed his hands against the concrete wall. All Hermann wanted to do was kiss those hands, to kiss every bruise on Newt’s body until Newt was giddy from the affection of it all. But it felt wrong to kiss Newt at all while he was knocked out like this, so Hermann only looked at him longingly as the medical team carried Newt away on a stretcher.

The medical team allowed Hermann to watch Newt’s MRI from the computer room. Hermann could barely see Newt in the machine, and he didn’t really know enough about brains to understand anything that was shown on the monitor, but every time that monitor advanced a frame Hermann had the distinct sense that something was wrong. With every new picture that was taken, he pointed to a spot on the monitor and nervously asked the tech “is that something there?”, and every time the tech had to calm him down and assure him that everything was okay, at least physically. But finding nothing scared Hermann even more than finding something would have scared him. A mass could have been operable, or at least it would have given Hermann a clear answer.

“There’s nothing abnormal at all on these scans,” three seperate neurologists and the MRI tech begrudgingly told Hermann after he’d asked for the fifth time if they were sure.

“Is it possible the mass could be microscopic, and we just have to wait for it to get a little bigger before we can see it? Or maybe… you didn’t use contrast, could we try that? Maybe something would show up?”

The neurologists looked at each other, exhaustion and annoyance obvious on their faces.

“The sedative would probably wear off before we could get another scan done,” one of them said. “And besides, would we really want to subject him to that for just the slimmest of chances that it reveals something new?”

“Just give him another dose of the sedative, then!” Hermann exclaimed. “He has a monster in his brain, and you’re worried about subjecting him to another MRI? Give me a break, will you?”

The neurologists stared at him in stunned silence, shocked at his sudden outburst. It was uncharacteristic of the ever-stoic Doctor Gottlieb, and it was enough to scare them.

“I… I need you to help him, okay?” Hermann mumbled tearfully. “He’s hurting badly. Those things in his head, they’re torturing him, and the sooner we figure out how to get them out, the sooner he can start recovery. Just… I need him to be okay. Please.”

“Fine. We’ll try another MRI,” the neurologist conceded. “In the meantime, Doctor Gottlieb, you could probably do with some rest. This is clearly causing you a lot of stress. We’ll get you the results by this evening, alright?”

“But… it’s not even noon, I’ve still got work to do-”

“It would be better for you, your team, and your projects if you take the rest of the day off. I’ll notify your supervisor in case they come looking for you.”

Hermann nodded and skunk away sadly, too exhausted with worry to argue anymore. He leaned on his cane more than usual as he rode the elevator down to his quarters, not because he needed the extra support but simply because he was just so tired. Newt’s condition seemed to be worsening, and yet there seemed to be nothing wrong. It was causing Hermann to worry himself sick.

He sauntered unsteadily into his quarters and set a kettle full of water on the hotplate next to the sink with the intention of making tea. The tiny sink and counter in his quarters weren’t really intended to function as a kitchen, but Hermann had managed to use it as one for years after deciding he didn’t want to deal with the crowds of the mess hall. He avoided the mess hall even more after Newt’s return, as the condolences from the rangers only served to sadden him rather than comfort him. Instead, he subsisted off mostly tea and dry cereal within the confines of his quarters. If it was having any negative health effects, he hadn’t noticed (what with his already bony form).

Hermann sipped his tea gingerly-it was lavender tea, which was apparently supposed to calm his nerves, but all it did was burn his mouth a little. He was still a nervous wreck over Newt, over the things in his head eating away at his thoughts entirely undetected and unchecked. The pain and desperation he’d seen in Newt’s eyes stuck in his mind. It was clear that Newt was hurting, it was clear how much he was hurting (or rather how much the precursors were hurting him), but Hermann had no way to stop it.

He finished off his tea, set the mug in the sink without so much as rinsing it off, and retreated to the bathroom.

With shaking hands, Hermann took off his jacket (now dubbed the cutter jacket, much to his chagrin) and set it on the floor. He leaned against the sink, barely able to hold himself up as he pulled up the sleeves of his button-up so the bandages on his arms were in full view. Eventually he collapsed onto the tile, clutching his left forearm in his right hand. It was covered in bloodied bandages, and the fabric of the bandages stuck to his cuts as he tried to unwrap them. When he’d finally removed and disposed of the old bandages, Hermann took a moment to admire his damaged arms. He ran his fingers over the deeper cuts, which had quickly become swollen ridges in his flesh. This particular sensation was oddly mesmerising-Hermann could sit here on the floor feeling his mangled arms for hours. It was disgusting, but it did help him take his mind off of Newt.

The bleeding had stopped by then, so Hermann didn’t bother putting fresh bandages on. Instead, he changed into Newt’s Mothra shirt and laid in bed for a while. This was probably the fifth consecutive day he’d worn that shirt without washing it, and it was starting to stink, but Hermann couldn’t be bothered to wash it. He turned on the radio on his nightstand to the classical music station, hoping it would help to calm his nerves, but his heart still pounded in his chest. All he could think about was Newt. He hoped they would find something new in the MRI, but realistically he knew it was hopeless. The precursors had entered Newt’s mind through drifting. They were in his thoughts more so than his physical brain, there wasn’t a mass or something. In order to see the problem, they would have to look into Newt’s thoughts, not just his brain.

Someone would need to drift with him.

Hermann turned off his radio and rushed to get his pager out of his jacket. The rational part of his brain told him that this would never get approved, no sane supervisor or ethics committee member would allow anyone to drift with Newt in his current state. Especially not Hermann-the precursors had already taken one of the world’s most brilliant scientists, it would be insane to put another one at risk.

“Captain, sir,” Hermann croaked, holding his pager in one hand and his cane in the other. His jacket has been thrown onto the little kitchen table, which was slightly more sanitary than leaving it on the bathroom floor. “I-I’ve had a breakthrough, I know how we can help Doctor Geiszler. Can I see you in my lab in ten minutes?”

“Doctor Gottlieb, you were ordered to remain in your quarters for the rest of the day on grounds of mental health,” his supervisor’s voice buzzed out of the pager. Usually Hermann would be kicking himself for attempting to defy orders like this, but Newt’s situation was more urgent than his feelings.

“I’m quite alright now, sir,” he said softly, slightly embarrassed to be treated like an unstable teenager. “Please, the sooner I can get this approved, the more likely it is that we’ll be able to help him.”

“Fine. Your lab, ten minutes. But you’re staying in your quarters after this meeting is over.”

“Yes sir!”

Hermann turned off his pager, pulled on his jacket, and dashed out the door and down the hall to the elevator.

His supervisor was already in his lab when he got there, standing in the middle of the floor and crossing his arms. He was a bulky bald man with a thick black beard who towered over Hermann.

“Captain,” Hermann said firmly, staring up into the man’s eyes and saluting him.

“Doctor Gottlieb, you don’t need to salute me. You’re not a soldier, and it makes you look idiotic.”

“I’m sorry, sir.”

“So tell me about this breakthrough of yours,” the captain said, offering Hermann a seat in his own desk chair. Hermann accepted it despite the strangeness of the gesture.

“I believe,” Hermann began, spinning anxiously in his office chair, “that there’s no way the precursors are physically present in Newt’s brain. Given the results of the first MRI, and the fact that they entered through drifting, I believe that the precursors are exclusively present in his thoughts. There’s no physical growth affecting his brain, it’s just that the precursors are able to manipulate his thoughts and memories to the extent he effectively becomes one.”

“That is an interesting theory,” the captain replied, “but how would you explain the pain they can cause him?”

“Easily. They simply make him believe he’s experiencing pain. Maybe it was the precursors who implanted the thought in his head that something was manipulating his parietal lobe in order to cause such pain, but that’s just not the case. It’s literally all in his head.”

“So what do you propose we do?”

“This is going to sound insane,” Hermann sighed, “but I’d like to attempt to drift with him.”

“You’re right. That does sound insane.”

“What other options do we have? I mean, you can’t exactly operate on something that isn’t physically there.”

“If what you believe is true, then we could attempt psychotherapy. Since the precursors created what are essentially delusions of being one of them, then a talented therapist could help to reverse them. Before that, though, we were thinking of doing a biopsy on his parietal lobe.”

“No. Absolutely not. You are _not_ cutting into his head.”

“Doctor Gottlieb, what you’re proposing entails the same amount of risk, if not more.”

“Well, considering it’s an invasive procedure, you’d need his consent for it. And since he’s currently possessed, I believe it could be argued that he’s not of sound mind to consent to such a thing.”

“That’s why I’m talking to you. You are officially responsible for such decisions in the event that he would become incapacitated.”

“What? Why?”

“I suppose he trusts you the most.”

“Look, I just want to try drifting. Give me a week to try and fix this, and then if his condition hasn’t improved, I’ll let you do the procedure.”

“The precursors have already taken one of the world’s top scientists from us. I don’t want to be responsible for risking another one.”

Hermann sighed. This was exactly what he was afraid of.

“Three days,” he offered. “And I’ll make sure someone is present to cut the neural link in case something goes wrong.”

“How would they know if something went wrong?”

“I’d figure something out, I swear. Please, sir, just… let me help him.”

“At least let us try and find someone else who’s drift-compatible with him before we send you in there.”

“No. It has to be me.”

“Why?”

“Because I think I’d be the most competent at getting through to him. Because… I love him, okay? I love him, I can parse through his thoughts in a way that no one else can, I _get_ him in a way no one else does. I’m willing to take the risk of letting the precursors in if it means I can save him. I… I can save the man I love.” Hermann was blubbering pitifully before his supervisor, making an absolute fool of himself over Newt.

“Fine. You can try. We can’t fit a drift setup in his cell, so we’ll do this in the old K-Science lab tomorrow. How does 9:30 sound?”

“That would be fine, thank you,” Hermann replied, going red in embarrassment over the scene he’d just made.

“Go back to your quarters, Doctor Gottlieb. It would do you well to be rested for tomorrow’s experiment.”

“Yes, sir,” Hermann said, making a conscious effort to resist his instinct to salute. He walked out of the office and back down to his quarters, threw his jacket on the table, and collapsed back into bed. It was only noon, he probably should have been making himself some lunch or looking at articles about tree frogs on his laptop or something, but he just didn’t have the energy. His captain and the neurologists were right, he supposed-the situation with Newt was stressing him out, and he was exhausted. At least he’d see Newt the next day.

When Hermann awoke, it was already drawing quite close to 9:30. He hurriedly changed into a clean button-up, vest, and overcoat (he still smelled from having worn the Mothra shirt to bed, but at least he looked clean), made a pot of tea, and poured it into a thermos. Then, pulling his sleeves over his wrists as far as they would go, he made his way down to the K-Science lab.

The drift equipment was already set up in his and Newton’s old laboratory-two chairs like the ones at the dentist, and a helmet on each one resembling something out of a mad scientist’s laboratory. The helmets were connected to some machine by big bundles of wiring that looked like they were going to catch fire at any moment. Hermann took a seat on the end of one of the chairs and waited for Newt.

A few minutes later, Newt was dragged into the lab by a team of guards and scientists. His wrists were still bound behind his back, and he had a gag in his mouth which Hermann figured was to stop him from biting people (although the setup was starting to look more and more kinky every time Hermann laid eyes on it). Newt was thrashing about in his restraints, clearly under some semblance of precursor influence. Hermann wondered how they were going to get him to stay in the drift apparatus, but then he noticed the leather straps on the chair next to him. It was a primitive solution, but he supposed it worked. It still felt incredibly kinky though.

“Doctor Gottlieb,” one of the scientists said, nodding at Hermann. “Are you familiar with how to set up the drift apparatus, or would you like some help?”

“Er… a little help would be nice,” Hermann replied. “I’ve done this once before, but I’m not entirely sure how to set it up.”

“Now, if you feel like you need out of the neural link, just yell, okay?”

Yell. Brilliant solution, Hermann thought. Either this would result in Newt screaming at an inopportune time and them getting pulled out early, or Newt preventing him from screaming and putting him in danger of precursor influence.

Whatever. He didn’t care if those things took him down too, as long as he had this chance to try and save Newt.

Hermann tried to focus on the gentle brush of this scientist’s hands against his face as he equipped Hermann with the drift apparatus, rather than the muffled hissing, screaming, and thrashing coming from Newt. The obvious precursor influence did make him a little hopeful, though. If the precursors were so against letting Newt and Hermann drift, than they must have had something to gain by doing so.

A dull pinch ebbed briefly through Hermann’s head as the neural link began. The beginning of a drift was always a little jarring for Hermann-between the sudden shock of the machine turning on and the terror of what kind of traumatic memory he’d end up seeing, he second-guessed his decision to opt into this every time. Then there was a brief moment of nothing, a momentary rest before awakening within the neural link.

Hermann came to in the desk chair in his room, acutely aware of the stinging pain coursing through his arms and the chill of a scalpel in his hand. Great. Not only had they not wound up in Newt’s memory, they were in the darker recesses of Hermann’s memory.

“Shit! Shit, Hermann, oh god, I’m sorry-”

Hermann looked over to where the shriek had come from to see Newt sitting on his bed. He was wearing his typical daily attire: old black denim jacket, white button-up, poorly done black tie. He was the same Newt that Hermann remembered working with in the K-Science lab. Hermann nearly shed a tear upon seeing him. God, he missed this Newt so much.

“It’s… nothing you haven’t seen before,” Hermann muttered.

“I suppose, but… fuck, it just hurts, man.”

“I’m sorry, Newton. I don’t mean to hurt you.”

“Are you being careful with that scalpel? I think I know that brand, they’re really sharp.”

Hermann went bright red.

“Yeah, er… you do know this brand. This is one of yours.”

“Dude, I use those to cut up kaiju. You’ll poison your blood with that shit.”

“I sterilized it thoroughly beforehand. I let it soak in peroxide for three days. It’s clean.”

“Still, if you’re gonna do that, at least use a fresh one.”

“But I like yours, Newton. It… makes me feel closer to you. Because I miss you so much.”

Newt looked around the room, noticing the various figurines and posters Hermann had appropriated from his room. His eyes widened, and Hermann was embarrassed. It was insane, he knew it was insane, but he needed all of this. Having all of Newt’s things in his room, slicing his skin with Newt’s scalpel, it made him feel closer to his best friend. It made him feel safe.

“Jesus Christ, Hermann. You’ve gone insane.”

“I’m just holding it for you is all. Nothing weird.”

“Aww, Hermann...it’s okay. I get that you miss me. The posters, figurines, that’s okay. Just get a clean scalpel, alright? Kaiju guts are like, really carcinogenic. I can tell you what brand I use if you really want the same kind.”

“Newton, I need you to focus for a second,” Hermann said firmly, remembering the reason he was drifting with Newt in the first place.

“On what?”

“Look… I’m drifting with you to try and save you from the precursors. If I don’t figure out how to help you sometime in the next three days, they’re going to biopsy your brain.”

“So? It’s a biopsy, Hermann. People get them all the time. I’ll be okay.”

“But it’s pointless! They’re not going to find anything, Newton. The precursors aren’t in your brain. Not physically. They’re in your thoughts, they’re in your memories, and I think I can help you get them out.”

“Hermann… you don’t wanna see in there,” Newt said, pointing to his head and smiling.

“I’ve seen a lot. I’ll survive.”

“No, it’s not that, it’s… you don’t wanna see this. You don’t wanna see what they did to me.”

“I mean, you’ve already seen my room that I’ve basically turned into a shrine to you. I doubt this could be much more embarrassing.”

“Oh, believe me, it’s so much worse.”

“Newton,” Hermann said firmly, setting the scalpel down on his desk. He walked over to sit with Newt on the bed. “I need you to let me in. Let me help you.”

“Look, just… this isn’t me, okay? What you see in there, it’s them, they did this to me. Whatever you see in there, I’m… I’m really sorry.”

“It’s okay, sweetheart. I know it’s not you.”

Newt blushed hard.

“Hey Hermann?” he said softly, staring at the floor.

“Yes?”

“When all this is over… will you keep calling me sweetheart?”

“Of course.”

“I-I love you. I love you so much. And I’m sorry.”

“I love you too, darling,” Hermann crooned, reaching out to set a hand on Newt’s thigh. It floated through like a hologram, and suddenly Hermann found himself alone in his bedroom. It was a cruel joke. Hermann closed his eyes, forcing a few tears out.

When he opened them again, he was in a bathroom. It was the same kind of bathroom that he had in his quarters, but it wasn’t his. It was significantly more unkempt-half-empty tubes of toothpaste and medicine bottles cluttered every inch of the counter. Newt stood at the sink, shirtless, shaving cream coating his chin. Hermann had always been jealous of Newt’s ability to grow facial hair, and he had no idea why Newt insisted on shaving it off, but he was enjoying the image of Newt shirtless.

“This is your bathroom,” Hermann observed.

“Yup,” Newt sighed. “I spend a lot of time here. In this memory, not in the bathroom.”

“I figured that,” Hermann replied.

“Again, just… I’m sorry about what you’re about to see.” Newt washed the shaving cream off his face, put his glasses back on, and turned towards the bathroom door. Hermann sat down on the edge of the bathtub and joined Newt in watching the door, nervous about what was about to come through.

Suddenly, the door slammed open, and Hermann was face to face with himself. His first reaction was confusion. He’d never been into Newt’s quarters, much less his bathroom. Then he looked a little closer at the figure in the doorway, and noticed his visible lack of a cane. His double stood tall, firm, confident, staring Newt down.

“Congratulations on saving the world, Newton,” his double said, voice noticeably deeper than Hermann’s own.

Newt just nodded, looking up at the double. Hermann himself was a little taller than Newt, but the double towered over him. He must have been six feet tall at least.

“So good to see you like this,” the double growled, looking Newt over. “Beautiful. Absolutely immaculate.” He moved in close to Newt and dragged his hands across his bare chest. Newt winced away from the touch, which confused Hermann. If Newt really had loved him all along, why would he be so averse to Hermann touching him?

“I think you deserve a reward for your brave work in saving the world, Newton. You deserve to feel so, so good. Would you like that?”

Newt nodded, letting out a whine. Hermann’s heart leapt into his throat as he suddenly realised what he was about to see.

The double grabbed Newt’s shoulders tightly. Thick, rocky talons shot out of his fingers, digging into Newt’s flesh. As he pinned Newt against the bathroom wall, Hermann noticed why Newt had flinched away from the double’s touch. Four long gashes tore across Newt’s chest, presumably from this double’s disturbingly kaiju-esque claws. Once Newt was up against the wall, the double pulled his glasses up and stared him in the eyes. Hermann could’ve sworn he noticed a blue glow emanating from the eyes of his double.

“Look at me, Newton,” the double growled, his voice now distinctly not Hermann’s. In fact, it was practically the same voice that came from Newt’s mouth when the precursors were in control of him. A massive, bright blue tongue shot out of the double’s mouth, and he licked all over Newt’s neck. Newt’s breath quickened.

“Aren’t I perfect?” the double hissed. “I’m so much better than that stupid little friend of yours could ever be. We’re so much better.”

Newt whined as the double dragged his monstrous tongue down his chest. The double latched a clawed hand onto Newt’s waistband, and Newt’s breath hitched.

“Don’t you see what you’re missing out on?” the double growled, pulling on Newt’s waistband, teasing at the sensitive skin beneath with harsh, clawed fingers. “Don’t you see what you and that stupid scientist _bitch_ destroyed?”

“Please,” Newt begged, his voice breathy and high. “Please, I’m sorry, I just-I need-please, please, I’ll do anything.”

“I know,” the double said, smiling a horrible sharp-toothed grin. He sunk to his knees as he pulled Newt’s shorts the rest of the way down. Then he dug his clawed fingers into Newt’s soft hips, blood dripping over Newt’s flesh as the double’s tongue shot out again.

Hermann wanted so badly to avert his eyes, but he couldn’t tear his gaze away. The scene before him was horrific, and yet something about it was deeply erotic. At least now he understood what Newt’s comment about kaiju tongues back in the cell was about. And if the noises coming from Newt’s mouth were any indication-an ungodly loud combination of wails of agony and whines of pleasure-it really was something else. It made sense that this was Newt’s fantasy, although maybe he would have preferred it without the clawing and tearing of flesh. Hermann almost wished it was him down there on his knees. Maybe he didn’t have a kaiju tongue, but he knew he could make Newt feel good. And he wouldn’t tear him to pieces like this monster.

Newt made an ungodly noise as he finished, collapsing to his knees with his shorts still balled up at his ankles. He was face to face with the double, and he stared at the thing with reverence. It made Hermann sick. Blood dripped down Newt’s back, chest, and thighs onto the tile floor of the bathroom. His breath was quick and shallow, and he rested his hands on the double’s thighs for support.

“You’re ours now, Newt. Our little science bitch,” the double hissed into his ear.

“I know,” Newt whimpered.

“After you help us take this world, we’ll make you feel like this right before the end. Won’t that be nice? It’ll all be worth it. Even as you choke on our poison air, you’ll feel so, so good.”

“Thank you,” Newt choked out. “Thank you so much.”

“If you’re really good, we’ll let you into our heads. We’ll give you a new body as one of us. The kind you’d really love. Then we’ll really be able to treat you right.”

“Oh, fuck, I’m… I’d love that. I’d love that so much. Thank you so much.”

“Sleep well, little science boy. It’ll be over soon.”

Hermann’s double stood up, leaving Newt bleeding on the floor. He walked so easily out of the bathroom in a way that Hermann never could. The door slammed hard behind him, and Newt collapsed onto the tile.

Hermann slid off the edge of the bathtub and onto the tile, hoping to comfort Newt. Or scream at him. He could’ve gone either way, really.

“Hermann,” Newt groaned. “I’m so sorry you had to see that. I’m so fucking sorry.”

“That was… a disturbing insight into your fantasies,” Hermann said softly.

“Please don’t take it the wrong way,” Newt whined. “You… you’re perfect. I don’t care that you’re not six and a half feet tall, or that you don’t have a… a _tongue_ like that. That’s just what they chose, I-I didn’t make them do that, I swear.”

“You do know that’s not what happened after we closed the breach, right?”

“Of course not. It feels out of place. Like, when I look through my memory, you’re not like that. You’re only like that in this one memory.”

And just like that, something clicked in Hermann. This was so simple. If the precursors had only been manipulating Newt through that one memory, then they only had to fix that one memory in order to fix the problem. If he could just get Newt to remember what actually happened, then he could fix everything.

“That’s great, Newton!” Hermann exclaimed. “That’s how we can get these things out of your head. We just have to get rid of that one memory.”

“How do we do that?”

“I… I don’t know. Can you remember anything that actually happened?”

“No,” Newt sighed.

Hermann thought for a moment.

“How much can you control while that memory is playing out? Like, obviously you’re talking to me now, but… could it be as simple as just locking the door before he comes in?”

“I guess it’s worth a shot,” Newt shrugged.

“Good!” Hermann exclaimed. “Do you think there’s a way we could get back to the beginning of the memory?”

“Uh… hold on.” Newt closed his eyes. Hermann closed his eyes along with him. When he opened them again, he was once again sitting on the edge of the tub, watching Newt shave. He had to admit, he was impressed with Newt’s control of his memories within the drift. Perhaps this was what had allowed him to quarantine the precursors into this specific memory in the first place. Hermann smiled. Newt was so smart. So perfect. He loved him so much.

“So… can you lock the door?” Hermann asked.

“Hm? Sure,” Newt said, wiping a bit of shaving cream from his lip. He turned the latch on the bathroom door, and then he continued with his shaving.

“It can’t be this easy,” Hermann muttered. “They’re practically killing you, Newton. It can’t be as simple as locking a door.”

A loud bang echoed through the bathroom. Newt and Hermann jumped, staring at the door. Another loud bang followed.

“Shit,” Newt mumbled.

“Stay strong, Newton,” Herman said, even though he himself was shaking in his boots.

One more loud bang, followed by the door crashing open. Newt stared at it in shock. Hermann’s double stood there, towing in the doorway.

“Newton, what’s wrong?” he said, gentle but with a twinge of hatred in his voice. “Don’t you want to see me after we just saved the world?”

“I’m sorry,” Newt muttered.

“I only wanted to congratulate you on your brilliance. It takes a special kind of person to take the risk of drifting with a kaiju.”

“I know.”

“But you didn’t hesitate! That shows strength, Newton. That shows… promise. You’re going to do great things.”

“I mean, I already saved the world. What more could I do?”

Hermann’s double ran a claw over Newt’s cheek, scratching him lightly.

“You could help… a friend in need,” the double sneered. “A friend who would do more for you in return than your little scientist boyfriend ever could.”

“Like… like what?”

“I can show you,” the double said, grinning. He gripped Newt’s shoulder, pinned him against the wall, and started running his awful tongue over him once again.

Hermann couldn’t take it anymore. He screamed as loud as he could.

“Get me out of here! Get me out! Get me out!”

He came to in the chair, sweat drenching his face, vision going a bit blurry in his left eye and blood dripping out of his nose. Apparently they still hadn’t perfected drift technology to the point that side effects weren’t a concern. His heart raced, terrified of what he’d just seen.

“Doctor Gottlieb, are you alright?” the other scientists asked.

“Yes, I-I’m okay, thank you,” Hermann replied. “I think I’ve found a way to help him.”

“What is it?”

“The precursor influence has been isolated to only one memory. If we can find a way to either remove that memory, or restore his memory of what actually happened, we’d be able to get the precursors out.”

“How do you propose we do that?”

“I need the security footage of his quarters from the day we closed the breach. If we can show him what actually happened, maybe it’ll counteract the false memories implanted by the precursors.”

“That footage is over ten years old. It’s probably long gone by now. And even if it’s not, you definitely don’t have the clearance to see that kind of footage.”

“I’m not looking at it to peep on him! Believe me, I’ve seen quite enough of that just now in the drift.”

“You can talk to the security team about it. But I doubt they’d approve it.”

Hermann nodded.

“Where’s the security office again?” he asked.

“Third floor.”

“Ah, yes. Thank you very much.”

Hermann took a longing look at a dishevelled Newt in the drift chair as he stepped out of the lab. Newt had always been particularly susceptible to the side effects of drifting-his eyes were bright red and bloodshot, his nose was bleeding so much Hermann almost feared a hemorrhage, and his skin glistened with sweat. Hermann always thought Newt looked cute with his hair all messed up after a drift. It made him want to gently comb his fingers through it, gently brush it from Newt’s sweaty forehead so he could plant soft kisses there.

It was a silly fantasy. Hermann pushed it from his mind and instead began the long journey up the old rickety elevator to the third floor.

The “security team” consisted of a lanky twenty-something boy with messy ginger hair and freckles. Hermann half-suspected that he was an intern, but the “Head of Security” badge clipped to his shirt begged to differ.

“Excuse me,” Hermann said softly, surprising the boy. He spun around in his office chair, turning away from the display of monitors watching the most crucial points in the Shatterdome. Entrances, the Jaeger bay, and (terrifyingly enough) Newt’s cell. Newt had apparently been returned to his cage, and was currently sulking in his bed.

“Oh, shit!” the head of security exclaimed, looking up at Hermann from his chair. “You’re Doctor Gottlieb, aren’t you.”

“Yes. I need to see if you have a certain recording in your archives.”

“Sure thing. What do you need?” The head of security pulled up a terrifyingly extensive spreadsheet on one of the monitors.

“I need the footage from Doctor Geiszler’s quarters on the day the breach was closed. From the camera in the bathroom.”

The head of security laughed, shaking his head.

“Yeah. No. Not doing that.”

“Why not? I _need_ it. This is a matter of life and death, you little twat.” Hermann was ashamed at getting so angry at the kid, but it really was a matter of life and death.

“I’m sorry, Doctor, but I’m not buying it. The old security guy warned me about you two. One of you was always coming in here, asking for security footage of the other’s bathroom. Always for some ‘super important experiment’ that ended up not existing. I know you scientists don’t get a lot of action, but there must be an easier way to get your rocks off than perving on security footage of your lab partner.”

“_Excuse me?_” Hermann exclaimed. “You’ve got to be kidding. I’d never do such a thing. That’s disgusting.”

“Well then, I hate to break it to you, but I think your lab partner was whacking it to security footage of you back when he was working here.”

Hermann sighed. Newt really was nasty. On any other day, Hermann would’ve been about ready to strangle him upon finding this out. But right now, Newt was suffering in that cell, and Hermann chose to focus all his rage on the poor head of security.

“Listen to me, you miserable little shit,” he growled. “Doctor Geiszler may be a perv, but I don’t care about that any more. You’re looking right at him; he’s locked in that cell, getting eaten away by the precursors, and the only way I can save him is by getting that security footage. He… he needs to remember that night. They’ve taken it from him, they’re using it to control him, and that’s the only way.”

The head of security punched in a few numbers on his keyboard, scrolled through the spreadsheet up ten years, and clicked on one file. Hermann was once again faced, this time at a different angle, with Newt standing at his bathroom sink and shaving his face.

“I think that’s it,” Hermann said.

“Yeah. Just promise me you won’t do anything weird, okay?”

“I’d never.”

“Alright. Good luck.” The head of security smiled wryly and handed Hermann a flash drive.

“Thank you,” Hermann said, nodding.

He rode the elevator back down to his quarters, plugged the flash drive into his computer, and took a look at the footage. It occurred to him that there was no real reason to do this, but he was a little curious about what Newt had actually done that night. Maybe the head of security was right-Hermann really was just using the footage as an excuse to marvel at Newt’s body. His tattoos really were beautiful, and Hermann had a lovely picturesque view of the whole piece from the angle of the security camera. He was mesmerised by the footage of Newt shaving his face, brushing his teeth, taking his meds. Hermann imagined one day standing beside Newt at the sink as they both performed their evening routines before retreating to the bedroom for some snuggling before bed. He could almost smell the faint odour of shaving cream left on Newt’s face, the minty smell of toothpaste on his mouth as their lips pressed together in a warm kiss.

Eventually, Newt stepped out of the bathroom, and the footage went quiet. Hermann felt a little better about himself after realising there was nothing explicit on the tape. The sappy domestic thoughts about Newt were a little embarrassing, but at least he didn’t feel like a perv.

The thoughts of sharing a life with Newt made Hermann’s dinner of plain rice and a glass of wine feel even more lonely and depressing than usual. He would’ve taken dinner with Newt over this any day, even if Newt ended up forcing him to eat cold pizza or spam or something equally disgusting. Newt’s eating habits disgusted Hermann, but he could get over that if it meant sharing a life with the man he loved.

It was tragic, really, that it had taken Hermann this long to call Newt “the man he loved”. Maybe absence really did make the heart grow fonder, and not having to share a lab with the man every day made Hermann realise how sweet Newt really was. Or maybe the threat of losing him had ignited something in Hermann. Either way, Hermann wished he’d realised this years ago. He thought of all the years he and Newt could have spent together, curled up on a mattress after a long day of working in the lab, settling their arguments with kisses instead of fights. He could have a close-up view of Newt’s tattoos any time he wanted, and maybe he’d even learn to appreciate the horrific images of kaiju adorning his body. If he took his glasses off, and it was dark, the whole piece would just blend into a beautiful sea of color that suited Newt’s personality so well. And he’d call Newt “sweetheart” all the time, just to see the look of admiration on his face.

Hermann opted to finally put Newt’s Mothra shirt in the laundry and instead sleep shirtless that night. Usually he hated sleeping shirtless (he would’ve worn a binder to sleep if it wasn’t too dangerous), but after spending weeks sleeping in the Mothra shirt, he couldn’t imagine wearing anything else to bed. Really, he just wanted to sleep in Newt’s arms.

Hermann wasted no time pulling on a set of clothes and heading down to Newt’s cell when he woke up the next morning. He raced down the stone corridor, laptop under his arm, eager to test his theory and finally get his Newt back.

When he went to enter the cell, however, the guard wouldn’t let him in.

“Doctor Gottlieb, you’re not going in there,” he grunted.

“Please, sir,” Hermann said. “This is extremely important.”

“You won’t be safe,” the guard informed him. “He’s… gotten worse.”

“I don’t care,” Hermann insisted. “Let me in.”

“Doctor Gottlieb, you can’t. He’ll kill you.”

“I’ll keep my distance. I’ll stay in the chair where he can’t reach.”

“No. It’s too dangerous. The moment any part of you enters his reach, he’ll gnaw it right off.”

“I’m willing to take that risk. Just… please. Let me in.”

“Fine. But trust me, I won’t have time to tranq him if it goes bad. You’ll be bleeding out before he even starts to fade.”

“Sure. Whatever.”

The guard turned his key in the door, and Hermann stepped in, laptop in hand. He sat down in the chair, setting his cane against the wall and pulling his feet under the chair, just to be safe.

“Newton,” he said softly, staring down at Newt on the bed. Newt looked like an absolute disaster. His face was caked in blood, having apparently not been washed after the drift. His tattoos were slightly off-color, and Hermann knew that that meant more bruising. He wanted nothing more than to kiss Newt all over, but he had to heed the guard’s warning.

“Fuck off,” Newt growled.

“Newton, please. There’s something I need you to see.”

“I don’t care! I hate you! I hate you so much!”

It stung, but Hermann reminded himself that this wasn’t Newt, this was just the precursors.

“I know you don’t hate me, sweetheart. I know you got footage of me in my quarters from the head of security. That’s not hate, Newton.”

“You’re right,” Newt laughed maniacally. “God, you’re so sexy. It was so hot to watch you change, watch you shower, knowing you were none the wiser.”

Hermann felt sick, but he pressed on.

“You know that was wrong. I know you know that. You’re a good man, Newton. And I forgive you.”

“You shouldn’t. Because I’d do it again.”

“You wouldn’t have to. Because when this is all over, we’ll be showering together.”

“Bullshit.”

“I’d never lie to you, sweetheart.”

Hermann was a little nervous about keeping that promise, but he figured it would be worth it in the end.

“Get out of here, you bastard,” Newt growled. It was definitely not his voice, he was clearly under precursor control, but Hermann didn’t let that scare him.

“There’s something I want you to see,” he said firmly, opening his laptop and plugging in the flash drive. The video popped up on the screen, and he turned the monitor in Newt’s direction.

“See? You’re just as twisted as me,” Newt laughed.

“I am _not_. I can assure you, there’s nothing on this tape more scandalous than you brushing your teeth.”

“Bullshit,” Newt laughed. “I remember that night very well, Hermann. You and I saved the world. And we celebrated with the best goddamn sex of my life.”

“No, we didn’t,” Hermann told him. “Just watch.”

“I don’t need to,” Newt shot back as the footage played. “I know exactly what happens, you dirty pervert.”

“I am not a pervert,” Hermann said firmly, smiling and shaking his head. Newt watched the footage in which he washed the shaving cream off his face, set his razor on the sink, and pulled out his toothbrush.

“No, wait,” Newt said. “This… this is the wrong day. You should’ve come in by now.”

“I double-checked the date three times. That’s the day the breach was closed.” Hermann pointed to the timestamp in the bottom-left corner of the screen, and Newt gaped at it. Sure enough, it was the day they closed the breach.

“Liar,” he growled. “You edited the footage, surely, that can’t be right-”

“You know damn well I’m rubbish at video editing.”

“God, you really are, I know, I’m…” Newt broke into sobs as the footage played out, and he watched himself down a handful of meds before stepping out of the bathroom. He watched the footage of the empty bathroom for another minute, tears flowing down his bloodsoaked face.

“Newton… it’s okay,” Hermann whispered.

“I know,” Newt muttered. “I know, I’m sorry. Fuck, my arms hurt.” His voice had gone back to normal, and he stared down at the cement floor in shock. Hermann closed his laptop and held it on his lap.

“Can you still feel them?” Hermann asked.

Newt looked up, his eyes wide.

“I… no. I can’t.” He smiled, his eyes suddenly bright in a way Hermann hadn’t seen in ten years. “Shit, that’s why my arms hurt so much all of a sudden. I hadn’t noticed with the pain in my chest over the past few hours.”

“So.. how do you feel about the kaiju?” Hermann asked tentatively.

“I mean… they’re fucking sexy. But I’m still glad we closed the breach. Even if it means I’ll never get to fuck one.” Newt laughed in spite of himself.

“So you’ve never fucked one?”

“What? No! How would that even work?”

Hermann breathed a sigh of relief. He abandoned all restraint, leaping off the chair and wrapping his arms around Newt.

“Oh, sweetheart, it’s really you. It’s you, you’re back, I love you so much.”

“You really mean that?”

“Of course, baby. I’ve always loved you. I just wish I’d been able to admit it sooner.”

“I love you too, Herms.”

“Please don’t call me that,” Hermann laughed. No matter how annoying Newt was, he couldn’t stop smiling. He was just so glad Newt was finally okay.

“So… you’re sure I’m okay? It’ll be okay if you take these cuffs off me?”

“I don’t have a key, but I can get one. Damn, Newton, you smell horrible.”

“Did you mean what you said about showering with me?”

“I mean, it’s as good of an excuse as any to get you clean.”

Newt smiled, making a noise akin to a purr. Hermann brushed his hair aside and planted a kiss on his sweaty forehead. Then he pulled his pager out of his pocket and excitedly called up to his supervisor.

“Captain, it’s-it’s Doctor Gottlieb. I-I’ve managed to free Doctor Geiszler from the precursors, and I’d appreciate if you could come down here and uncuff him for me.” His voice shook, he was so giddy at the idea of finally having Newt back.

Hermann’s supervisor arrived outside the cell a few minutes later, flanked by two armed guards. He supposed that was to be suspected, but he still held Newt a little closer on instinct. Newt flinched at the pressure on his bruised body, but he was eager to snuggle as close to Hermann as possible.

“Well done, Doctor Gottlieb. It seems you’ve brought him back.”

“I know,” Hermann smiled. “Thank you, sir.”

“Are you comfortable with letting him stay in your dorm until we’re able to fix up his home? The kaiju brain and drift equipment will need to be removed, and we want to do a sweep of the house for anything else that could possibly let the precursors back in.”

“That sounds reasonable,” Hermann agreed, secretly very excited about having Newt stay with him.

“You know, when this is all over, you can come live at my house. It’s a lot bigger than the quarters at the Shatterdome. And it’s close enough that we’d still be able to work here.”

“We?”

“Of course! I miss being lab partners with you, man.”

“Aww, I do too, Newton.”

“Are you two done being lovey, or do you need a few more minutes before I get those cuffs off?” the captain asked sarcastically.

“Oh, no, of course. Please.” Newt held out his arms, and the captain wasted no time in unlocking them. The moment Newt’s hands were free, he wrapped his arms around Hermann and held him close.

“Come on, Newton,” Hermann whispered. “Let’s go back to my quarters and get you cleaned up.” He stumbled across the room to grab his cane and laptop, and Newt followed him closely down the hall to the elevator.

Back in Hermann’s quarters, the pair sat in Hermann’s bathroom, blushing hard at the prospect of showering together.

“You sure about this?” Newt asked for the fourteenth time, crossing his legs over the front of the bathroom counter. He still had his boxer shorts on, opting not to get fully naked until he was sure Hermann was ready to handle that. The last time Hermann had seen him naked was back in his cell (or at least, that was what Newt remembered), and it hadn’t been the best experience for either of them, so he wanted to be certain. Of course, the reality was much worse, but Hermann was still up for it.

“Of course, Newton,” Hermann said sweetly. It took him a solid few minutes to remove the several layers of clothes he had on, and he opted to keep his underwear on, which Newt understood. Newt jumped off the counter and onto the bathroom rug. He pulled at the waistband of his boxers and looked at Hermann nervously.

“I’m uh… gonna take these off now,” he said. “If that’s okay.”

“It’s quite alright, sweetheart,” Hermann replied.

Newt quickly pulled the shorts down, and Hermann took a brief moment to marvel at his body. His tattoos covered nearly every inch of skin, even the parts underneath his shorts, and it was quite a sight. Hermann managed to pry his eyes away long enough to turn on the shower. He stepped in carefully, resting his cane on the wall just outside the shower and grabbing onto the metal bar of the shower for support. He gave Newt a nod, and Newt eagerly stepped in alongside him.

It took all of Hermann’s restraint to actually allow Newt to clean up a little before laying his hands all over him. The wet undergarments sticking to his body didn’t bother him nearly as much as they usually would have, because all he could focus on was Newt’s beautiful body right in front of him. He poured a little bit of shampoo into his free hand, barely avoiding slipping as he briefly let go of the shower bar, and worked the shampoo into Newt’s greasy hair. Newt purred again, resting his hands gently on Hermann’s shoulders and leaning his head into his chest. Hermann jumped a little bit as Newt’s forehead pressed against the fabric of his binder, but he quickly calmed himself down and allowed himself to enjoy Newt’s soft touch.

“You’re so cute, Newton,” he murmured, just loud enough to hear over the rush of the shower.

“I know,” Newt said, grinning. “So are you.”

After plenty of scrubbing, Newt finally started to smell a little better. He definitely looked a little better once all the blood had been cleaned off his face, and he was much more kissable when he didn’t smell of sweat and week-old body odour. Hermann even let Newt use some of his body wash, and even though he made fun of it (“So _this_ is why you always smell like an old woman, Hermann!”) Hermann much preferred the smell of lavender to whatever disgusting cologne Newt was usually want to use.

Once Newt was adequately cleaned, Hermann sat him down on the bath mat and dried his hair off for him. He was absolutely adorable with his hair all tousled and soft from being worked through with the cotton towel.

“I have some of your clothes in my dresser, if you want me to get you something to change into,” Hermann offered. 

“Sure,” Newt agreed. Then, cracking a sly smile, he added, “You’ve been wearing my underwear?”

“What? No,” Hermann said, blushing. “I’ve just been… saving a few pairs. In the hopes that you’d come back. I suppose it wasn’t crazy after all, huh.”

“It’s still crazy,” Newt assured him. “But right now it’s convenient.”

Hermann rolled his eyes and patted Newt on the head before wrapping himself in a towel, grabbing his cane from against the wall, and stumbling off to his room to get Newt a change of clothes. He returned a few minutes later in a t-shirt and jeans (which Newt had to admit was a very good look on him) and carrying a change of clothes for Newt, which included the (now clean) Mothra shirt. Newt finished drying himself off before putting his clothes on.

“I’m tired, Hermann,” Newt sighed.

“It’s barely noon,” Hermann replied. “If you want to get into bed with me, you can just say it.”

Newt blushed, standing up to meet Hermann’s eyes.

“I mean, we don’t have to do anything. You can just kiss me and call me sweetheart if you want.”

“No, no, I’m ready to do anything you’d like,” Hermann smiled.

“You sure?”

“Of course, darling. I’ve been ready for ten years now.” He pulled Newt close to him by his shoulders and kissed him softly.

“Fuck,” Newt whispered shakily, earning a laugh from Hermann.

“The bed’s a bit small,” Hermann told him. “I might have to lay on top of you.”

“Oh, you better,” Newt said, grinning.

The two retreated into Hermann’s bed, smiling and blushing like schoolgirls, excited at finally being together again.


End file.
